


Liar

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance, The Ghost of You - My Chemical Romance (Song)
Genre: M/M, homophobia doesnt exist and gays have rights, i dont know how the human body works but i know to to preserve it, mikey fucking dies, no beta read and i didnt really edit, petes a hippie, the only thing accurate is the state of the corpse, this isnt really accurate to history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When you're a medic at war, you see a lot of young men die, and you cant really do much. What you can do, however, is hold that boy close and tell him it's gonna be alright, even when you know that's not true, because the best way to go in this situation is calm and content.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 5





	Liar

Ray lifted his small body into his arms, running for cover as gunfire continued to fill the air around them. He felt the hot blood seep into his uniform from his comrades wound, and the sickening stickiness tacked his shirt to his chest. Mike had stopped screaming, but still let out some soft grunts and groans as he was set back down onto the cool sand. Gerard, however, had not, and his screaming was heard as fellow soldiers kept him pinned down before he ran out blindly and got himself shot as well. Ray looked down at his chest, seeing the sickening red spill out and soak the dull green of his uniform. There was so much blood. Mike rasped for breath, and ray concluded that the bullet had pierced his lung. He applied pressure, and smiled gently. Ray’s smile was like a warm glimpse of sun on an otherwise cloudy day, and had a way of making you feel better no matter what.  
“You’re gonna be alright, Mikey, I promise.” Ray leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the boys pale forehead. Mikey smiled weakly despite the overwhelming pain filling his body, and Ray continued to whisper soft reassurances as he held him close. It was all Ray could do now. “You’re gonna make it through this, and you’re gonna get an honorable discharge and go home to your mom and your hippie boyfriend.” Ray knew it wasn’t true, the injury too severe without the proper medical treatment they lacked access to in the moment. The lies hurt him, but seemed to help Mike, which made it all worth it.  
Mike inhaled suddenly, his breathing rough and noisy. “T-tell Pete I love him. Tell him .. tell him I-I wanted to start a family, Ray. I wanted to get married and have kids and grow old together. I…” Mike’s raspy voice faded out and his big brown eyes glossed over, his head lulled back against Ray’s arm Ray tugged him close and pressed his face into his chest, not caring if the blood tainted his skin. Mike was still burning hot, despite how many times people are described as growing cold as the life drains out of him. He still felt alive, and the only giveaway he wasnt was the lack of beating in his chest. Ray let out a single sob then pulled away. He laid Mike back down and moved a hand up and bumped his glasses out of the way so he could gently shut Mike’s eyelids. He looked like he was asleep, save for the lack of breath escaping his soft lips, practically the posterboy for young innocence. Mike was always a shy young man, barely the age of eighteen. He was made up entirely of soft smiles and anxious habits, with awkward knees and soft nimble hands. He was never cut out for war, he didn’t have the confidence of Gerard or the fight of Frank or the optimism of Ray, or the carelessness of Bob. He just wanted to get home and hold his short boyfriend in his arms again. He wanted to play bass alongside his boyfriend, he wanted to read comics and draw and listen to music. He had little to no interest in fighting for his country and thought the war was borderline stupid, but with how poor his family was, his brother was easily able to talk him into joining the war, making the army sound fun. Made it seem like a simple service that would allow him to go to school free afterwards and pay for any future health issues him or his family would have. But then a war broke out, and he found himself fighting against people he could not see as evil or deserving. Pete was never happy with his decision, and was strongly against the war, even going as far as to attend marches and protests with hand painted signs and flaunt a big patch on the back of his denim jacket, and play anti war songs on his pretty little acoustic guitar.  
Mike’s body was sent back home, and he was dressed in a nice black suit. They wanted to bury him in his uniform, but a teary Pete insisted the military had done quite enough and instead had him in the tux that was intended to be worn to their wedding, with a red dress shirt underneath. His makeup was done so he had eyeliner delicately smudged, and his lips gently tinted back to their original pink. His hair was taken from it’s gell and mussed up, bangs laying across his forehead. Just how he had looked when he was happy and when they met in their senior year of highschool. He was gorgeous, looking like a sleeping angel and hardly like a dead boy, and the only give away was how stiff his body was thanks to the rigor mortis and how if you unbuttoned his shirt, you’d be met with the incisions made to embalm him, and the fatal wound on his chest that had been sewn up. He was put into a gunmetal grey casket, and his body was surrounded by blood red roses. The funeral went smoothly, people coming up to Pete and Gerard and giving them their apologies, which Gerard rolled his eyes at as he sipped from his flask. Music of Pete and Gerard’s choosing filled the air with mixtures of Mike’s favorites, anti war pieces, and soft sad ones that fit the scene. They closed the lid and Frank and Ray lifted the front, Bob and Patrick, Pete’s best friend, the middle, and Pete and Gerard lifted the back. They carried the casket out as everyone turned to watch, and some workers at the funeral home helped them lower it into the grave that had been dug. All the guests took turns throwing more of the blood red roses down, until it finally came to be Gerard’s turn. He instead removed the black rosary from his pocket and dropped it down before he turned to leave. He didn’t see much need in it anymore, as he lost all faith in god and any desire to pray the second he saw that bullet puncture his baby brother’s frail body.


End file.
